Behind, Low and Behold, the future is ours to hold.

The child giggled as she ran across the field, with a trail of fireflies trailing her, illuminating her footsteps in the snow. She had curls as soft and mild as corn silk and a voice of a tinkling silver bell. People have always said that she will grow up to become the belle of the countryside with a long line of suitors falling at her feet, kissing her very heels.

She had eyes of glowing embers in those hollow sockets of hers and a heart that was non-existent.

She is dead.
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I love late nights. There's just this tranquil quality the blanket of darkness provides, plus its sense of timelessness as the seems to forever remain at that one spot in the sky, smiling or frowning at the world, I do not know. Inspiration has not hit me that hard yet but I can feel shards of it coming back into place. There school tomorrow. Everyone, give me a gigantic, humungous UUURRRRGGGGHHHH for that.

Oh yes, I did some minor changes to the background and sidebar. Rather happy about it :) Yippee!!